Blue Soldier
by AngelBunnyCake10023
Summary: Tom finds himself in the situation he never thought of reality. Working for Tord. With death hovering over him at every passing moment
1. Prologue

Red. It started with red, not blue. Red.

Blue and Red.

Not even opposites, but so drastically conflicting.

It's hard to make them look good together in any circumstance.

Red. The color of one's self after a supposed death. Or the color of rage and passion. That's red.

Blue. A quiet color, usually paired with sadness. But at the same time, it's so vibrant and powerful. That is blue.

What does Red have to do with Blue. Isn't blue the name of this supposed tale, not red.

But you are mistaken.

Blue has everything to do with red.

That's why you are here.

That's how you are here.

That is where this story begins.


	2. Chapter 1

A cold night breeze blew by, making the autumn leaves dance around and then settle back to sleep. The tall buildings and trees would stop its playful fun when it brushed against them. This repeated over and over. One wind blew against the glass surface of a window, doing nothing, but moving us on in the story. In one window, the lights off, you could see a boy about 19 years of age. He was sleeping peacefully. His brown hair sticking to his face as he breathed outward, his mind racing with dreams.

The window next door was not so lucky. At least. The man inside it.

He was sitting at the edge of his bed. His figure illuminated only by the window mentioned earlier. His hair Stuck up in various sized spikes unnaturally. He was wearing a worn down old hoodie that looked to be through a lot. The man rubbed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't get to sleep, his mind was haunted by past events. A new one this time. The words echoed in his mind like yelling the into a canyon.

"I Thought we were friends!" it would repeat.

The man groaned, pulling his hands up to caress his tired face. He continued back landing flat on the bed. He sat there for a minute then spoke to himself.

"Why can't I stop thinking about it.." He asked the empty ceiling. Of course it did not reply.

A loud creak came from the wall interrupting the man's thoughts.

"Stupid creaky window…" he complained before a thought struck him as he turned over to Face said window. "Wait. How did the window open?"

He crawled over to the window grudgingly to shut them and stop the playful breeze from entering his room, It's not that windy.." He added as he grabbed hold of the open pane.

His eye caught hold of something blowing slightly on the window pane, held only by a piece of store bought tape. On the small paper was a red symbol the man wish he could remember where it was from, he almost did. The man peeled the paper off the window and examined the symbol. He flipped it over to find more content. A completed note addressed to himself.

You know who the man is, and I would assume you know who wrote the letter. So I won't say. If not, I will recite the letter to you and you will most certainly know then.

 _Hello Tom,_

 _You probably didn't expect to hear from me. After what happened. But don't think of this as an apology, think of it as an invitation. You do not have to accept, but I know you will. Place the note back onto the window to accept. I will explain more there._

 _-Red Leader_

Tom, as we are all certain that is his name, was taken back. He had never liked Tord, Tord had never liked him. Why would he be invited him to "hang out". He had to make everything dramatic didn't he.

Tom grumbled and said outloud," Who does he think he is? After what he did.."

He paused, staring at the note more intently, thinking it over. Doing this could finally rid him of his Insomnia. Figuring out what happened to Tord might put him at ease, even if it wasn't exactly good.

Moments later Tom pulled off his hoodie and laid down on the bed, getting under the covers, he breathed out and tried to clear his mind. His eyes drooped from his tiredness and soon he was having dreams of his own, like the peaceful man down the hall.

To ease your questioning about the note is this.

The wind now had a new toy to play with, on the glass of the man's window that quiet, peaceful night .


	3. Chapter 2

All mornings start the same. You have that anxious feeling to wake up and once you do you are left tired for the duration of the day. You walk grudgingly to the kitchen and start to make coffee or a bowl of sugar-packed cereal.

Then you sit at your table, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and try to enjoy your wake up meal.

This was Tom, in a morning like all others. He was the one making coffee. He had slept alright but still didn't get the needed amount of sleep to stay fully awake. He pulled the mug up to his lip and let the hot liquid pool down his throat and give him a small zing that helped keep his eyes open.

A soft knock on the door jolted him up so he sat straight in his chair.

"It's probably Edd coming to say hi or something." He thought to himself. He picked up his coffee and took another gulp while heading towards the door. He turned the handle and opened it, what he saw wasn't Edd or even Matt. The man he saw had messy brown hair and a soft prickle of hair on his chin and left cheek. He was wearing a blue overcoat with the visible neck of a red sweater underneath. Long, brown boots made his pants bunch up about mid calf and knee. Tom nearly dropped his coffee cup seeing him. He had that immediate feeling that anyone would if an army figure appeared at your door. You did something wrong. Lucky for Tom that was not the case, but it didn't stop his fears. He didn't even know what he would've done, he just feared.

The man looked at Tom questionably and then spoke.

"Are.. You Tom?" He asked. Tom noticed a bent up cigar bouncing up and down as he said it.

(No it did not eat it it you know what I mean.)

Tom hesitated, but answered, "Yes I am. Why?"

The man grinned softly as if he had completed a lifelong quest. He reached into his pocket and held up a wrinkled piece of paper with a red symbol on the back. And that's what brought back the event of last night into Tom's mind.

"You've been called." Said Paul, for that's what Tom read on the nameplate pinned to his coat.

He had forgotten. And here was his escort to that very thing he had so foolishly agreed to.

He had left the note on the window, yes.

The breeze had played with it, yes.

He was prepared for what happened next, no.

He most certainly was not.


	4. Chapter 3

This wind was mischievous. It hit against the plane with incredible force, but only managed to rattle it slightly now and then. Tom was sitting in a comfortable airplane chair a crossed from his escort, Paul. Paul was silent, they could both feel the awkwardness in air growing heavier each passing second. They had been flying for about an hour, the only thing keeping Tom entertained was watching the clouds fly past as the plane cut through them.

Finally, Tom decided to speak.

"So, what does your 'boss' want with me anyway?" He asked, he still had no idea. He had simply jumped into the bull ring without any beforehand knowledge. He could be walking into his death trap for all he knew.

"Not even I know that.." Paul said softly looking intently out the window at the clouds just as Tom had been doing moments before.

"Guess we'll have to wait and see then... " Tom thought to himself.

The journey from England to Norway is only 2 hours by plane, it felt like 10. The plane finally began to descend, making Tom's stomach flip. The wheels skid against the run way until it came to a full stop. Tom didn't know whether to stand or not, he felt like he had been sitting there for days and any movement would remind him his legs couldn't work anymore and he would fall back down. But Paul got up and he did the same, only having a little trouble steadying himself.

Tom went first down the steep steps off the plane, Paul following casually behind him. When they reached ground Tom almost wanted to kneel down and savour it. Of course he didn't, that would be odd. Tom felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned and saw Paul pointing to a black Jeep off to the side with a similar looking soldier standing by it.

"That's Patryk, he driving us to the sight." Paul answered Tom's unspoken question.

They walked over to the Jeep where the man greeted them. He smiled over at Tom.

"You must be Tom then?" He asked,"the boss was very eager to see you here. We don't know why though."

"That's what I've been told." Said Tom,"No one knows what he's up to."

"It is quite odd," Paul added going over to sit in the passenger's seat of the Jeep.

"The boss isn't always so mysterious," Patryk said taking his place in the driver's seat.

Tom found himself in the back, buckling himself and leaning against the car door he had come through.

"The sooner we get there the sooner we can find out," Tom said, not meaning it to sound naggy.

Paul and Patryk looked at Tom and then at each other with a hurt sort of look. Patryk turned the key in the ignition and the car came to life. A slight push on the gas pedal sent them on their trip. Tom had no idea _where_ they were going, but he didn't ask.

They came to a long dirt road with grass fields on either side. A large mountain towered off in the distance, setting the scene nicely.

The trip was silent except for the thump of the tires over the dirt and the occasional bump as they went over a rock. They were nearing the mountain now which was littered with fresh snow and fern trees. There was small amounts of snow at the foot of the mountain which was where they were heading.

Tom saw the building first, it was made of metal which was rusting at the edges and corners. It had small windows on each side and there was a big, metal high-tech door at the front.

They reached a military area line and Paul had to get out and scan his card to elect them passage. As they got closer Tom noticed a large red symbol like the one he had seen on the note from last night. It still seemed so long ago for him, it was strange. Maybe it was the plane ride.

A few more minutes later they came to a stop next to the building. Paul got out first and then Tom. He breathed out and his breath collected into a small cloud. It was freezing so close to the mountain.

"Come," Paul gestured for Tom to follow him and he did. Patryk followed close behind.

The big metal door towered over them casting a shadow that made Tom shiver. Paul took placed his hand on a small screen and waited. It was like a movie, entering a secret undercover base. Paul brought back his hand and the big door creaked and craned up, granting them access to the inside.

They walked inside.

Each step echoed on the metal floor. Tom heard the door close behind them, he didn't look back, because there was no going back. He was stuck where he was.

They passed many doors each with their own purpose. Tom looked at them with interest, Patryk looked at them like he had seen them as many times as someone licked their lips to moisten them. They were just old doors.

Paul stopped at one of them and Tom almost ran into him. The door was bigger and fancier than the other ones. A plaque held on the door read

 _røde kvartalen_

(Sorry if that's wrong)

Tom had no idea what it said. Of course, because it was in a foreign language to him. Norwegian.

I will tell _you_ what it says.

It said: _Red Quarters_.

Paul's hand hovered over the doorknob as if waiting for permission to enter. He took a deep breath in and out and gripped onto it. Turning it. Opening. The room had a large desk perpendicular to the entrance way. The desk was littered with books that were all closed, and looked to be purposely turned over to hide the cover.

A plaque on the desk red the name _Tord._ The big leather chair behind the desk had its back to them.

Tom tried stalling, but was pushed slightly into the room by the point of Patryk's gun. Tom grumbled and took another few steps in. Paul and Patryk waited in the doorway. Tom noticed another section of the room out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't take time to look at it.

Tom almost turned back because he couldn't see anyone in the room, but of course as he thought to do so the big chair spun around to Face them. The man on it had burnt orange hair which stuck up in two large spikes I'm the front. The right side of his face was covered in bandages as well as his left arm. His outfit was similar to his comrades, but more equipped.

A large grin arose on his face as he stared at Tom, the words escaping his mouth in a perfectly recognizable Norwegian accent, "Hello Tom."

Red and Blue were now together.

But did not make Violet.

They made Mauve.


	5. Chapter 4

Tom stared, he didn't know what to do, who would? Paul and Patryk idled in the doorway, avoiding making eye contact with their boss by looking interested in their guns and shoes.

Tord sat up in his chair and placed his hands on the desk in a conjoined position, still looking at Tom who now was also trying to look anywhere else.

"I suppose I will cut to the chase," Tord finally said, bringing Tom's attention back to him," You want to know why you are here do you not? What you agreed to?"

Tom said nothing, but glared silently, he still got on his nerves. Tord continued to smirk nevertheless. The big leather chair rolled backwards as Tord stood up behind the desk so he towered a foot higher than Tom. Their height difference was both hated and enjoyed, each emotion belonging to different sides. You can guess who enjoyed and who hated right off the bat.

Tom nodded, still glaring up and Tord with disgust. He hadn't forgotten what he had done and Tord knew that.

Tord gave a sigh and unbuttoned his overcoat and let it fall onto his chair. Underneath was his red hoodie, torn and bloodstained. It had never been taken off. The bandages on his his coat were only to apply pressure to the wound. The real bandages were thick and tinted red.

"You might feel more comfortable like this," Tord explained," You see Tom I've been watching you, your actions intrigue me. I never expected you to act this way after the incident. I guess suspense really can get to people."

Tom shuffled awkwardly, the idea of Tord watching him was a little too much to think of at that time. He continued listening.

"I have been running low on soldiers, the organization will not supply me with any more because of my past endeavors. So I had to recruit my own, and that Tom is where you come in."

"Why me?" Tom asked placing his hand on his temples,"Why would want the guy who shot him out of the sky to be in his little army?"

Tord smirked at the comment, he made his way around the desk till his whole figure was visible. He hunched over and hovered inches above Tom's face.

"That's exactly the reason I brought you here actually, Sir Jehovah's Witness."

His breath was hot and minty, like he had brushed his teeth just an hour before. Tom scowled at the rudely inaccurate nickname which only made Tord's smirk grow larger.

Tom stayed silent, Tord straightened back up and continued talking like nothing happened.

"Not everyone can shoot a robot out of the sky at an elevation of 200 ft with a harpoon gun Tom." He said," you have skills. We need skills."

"Again, why should I help you?" Tom asked folding his arms a crossed his chest.

" Because your bored, just like I was," Claimed Tord, " There's nothing exciting for you anymore, you need action, adventure. That's why you came here. You _want to look death in the eyes"_

Tom didn't say anything, but it was clear that was Tord had said was somewhat true. Tom was bored, he was sick of the same routine. He needed this. No. He **wanted** this. It was his last chance.

Tord moved back behind the desk and opened a drawer taking out a piece of paper and placing it on the desk facing Tom. A contract.

"So old friend what do you say? There's no way you'll regret this decision, not in a million years." Tord said, quoting a line from Edd during on of their earlier adventures.

Tom looked down at the piece of paper like it was his death note. A pen was placed beside the paper and Tom grabbed it without a thought. The tip seemed to rest on the dotted line for decades. The ink drying to the pen. In reality it had only been a minute.

The wind blowed outside, a letter, it spun around and bumped into the walls, a name, it stopped, just as the pen did. Falling to the table, with the fresh mark of a name on the dotted line of the still paper.

There was truly no going back.

Only forward.

Into the fate the pen had signed.


	6. Journal Entry 1

September 15, 20xx

I still can't believe this. Did I really just sign to be a soldier for Mr. Communist?!

I did, didn't I

Yep.

That's just great. I've already got the bunk and everything. Paul came by and gave me my uniform and this book. All the pages were blank so I'm guessing it's a journal. Could be useful, to write down my thoughts once and awhile. He also told me that training starts tomorrow and it's in the room down the hall and to the left? I think that's what he said. Hopefully I can find my way.

It feels weird. I feel like I've forgotten something important. Something I should've done before I left. Figures, there's always that feeling when you leave home.

This outfit comes with a red sweater to go underneath, but there is no way in all mighty heck I am wearing RED. His color. I saw a laundry room on the way to this room so I could just bleach it and dye it blue if I wanted.

Honestly, Tord's state is more worse for wear than I imagined. Guess I couldn't just expect him to be completely intact after shooting him out of the sky and blowing up his giant robot thing.

I saw a few other men roaming the halls too, It's not just those two.

Paul and Patryk. They're interesting to say the least. Paul is nice, after I left Tord's office he got over whatever cat had his tongue and made friendly conversation. Patryk though, he kept giving me this look. I don't know why, it's almost like he could see what I was thinking. My motives.

I can't lie when I say I want to finish the job with Tord, but I wouldn't go that far. He doesn't seem to think so, I can tell that's what he was thinking.

Well, I just told it's lights out so, I guess I'll have to hit the hay. See what happens tomorrow. Can't be too bad right. Anyway, Tom, signing off.


	7. Chapter 5

There's no sunlight in a concrete room to wake you up in the morning. No alarm clock to rip through the fabric of your dreams. What there was was the repeated banging of the flat end of a gun banging against the door with the repeated yelling, " Rise and shine Tom, get dressed will you. And meet in the training center."

Tom grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his sore neck, he waited till he heard Tord's echoed footsteps disappear then swung his feet off the bed and grabbed the uniform. He stared down the red sweater a couple times before coming to a decision, throwing it on his bed and placing the rest of the clothing over his blue hoodie. He rarely took the thing off and he wasn't about to change now.

The coat was scruffy and formal, but strangely comfortable. The boots fit nicely over his jeans, making them scrunch up a bit, but he didn't mind. There was no mirror to look over his appearance, so he just had to guess that he looked cool (as always).

He took a calming deep breath before opening the door to his dorm and into the hall. He looked down both ends of the seemingly endless hallways, trying to remember which way to head. A faint memory at the back of his mind said to go right, but he couldn't scratch the feeling that maybe it was left. He groaned in defeat, he had no idea where he was supposed to go and either way would surely get him lost.

Tom, focused on making a decision, barely noticed a soldier dressed in his same attire (minus the hoodie) walk past, eyeing him curiously. They had faded chestnut hair that clung to their face in waves. It was messy here and there, but overall tame. 4 unusual dots lined up in a diamond on the left side of their face. A strange constellation of freckles.

Tom perked up and shouted after them, " Hey! Um, you! You over there!" They stopped and turned to look at him in the doorway," Do you know which way the training room is, I-i'm new.."

The soldier smiled softly and pointed a single finger down the hall to the right," Down this way, I'm heading there too so I can show you myself. I know firsthand how confusing this place can be first go."

Tom stepped over next to them, reaching about their same height," Thanks," he said matching their pace and following them down the hall.

After a minute of silence they decided to speak up, " So, your the new recruit the boss was talking about then? Never seen him act like that towards new recruits, you must be pretty special."

Tom shrugged, looking down at his boots squeaking slightly with every step,"He's just, an old friend…." he cringed saying it, but he wasn't eager to explain his whole backstory with Tord in the hall of his base. Not yet.

"That would make sense then," They responded," You shouldn't hope on special privileges though, he'll actually probably go harder on you because of that."

"Well, didn't hope for the easy route when I signed up for this, did I?" Tom asked rhetorically.

"That's why we're here though, because we all want the hard way." They answered. And nothing more was said.

The training room was finally found, and the insides were strange. A flat, wood floor with carpeted walls littered with guns and other weapons. Wounded training dummies sat in the corner. Some with bullet holes in their chests, stuffing piling out in tuffs. Others with their heads blown off completely.

About 20 other soldiers were already in the room, two of them Tom recognized as Paul and Patryk. They were standing next to the wall, examining the guns to make sure they weren't damaged and that the safety was on.

"Come on, if you're done sightseeing let's line up for roll call," They said, urging Tom inside the room. Tom went and stood next to one of the soldiers he fairly recognized seeing on the way to his dorm, and his companion stood on his free side. Only mere moments later the door swung open and Tom's eyes immediately flung to the door. The rest of the soldiers stayed in their positions, so Tom knew he already messed up. He mentally face palmed himself and stood face forward again.

Tord walked slowly past them, observing, Tom could see him smirking out of the corner of his eye. He made his way in front of them and motioned for Paul to hand him a gun. He did, a long 50 cal Muzzleloader that looked ready to shoot anyone who got out of line.

"Okay, I don't want to stand here and bring you all back to Primary School, but we do have a new recruit we need to properly introduce." Tord stared directly at Tom and the others did the same. It made him feel smaller than he really was and he had to focus on something else to forget that all their eyes were on him.

"Well then, introduce yourself." Tord added.

Tom stood silent, his voice caught in his throat, he didn't know what to say.

"Well, if he decides to be silent for once I'll have to introduce him for everyone," Tord said before Tom could even try to get his voice back,"This here is Sir Jehovah's Witness, you can call him Jovy for short. He sleeps with his toy be-"

"Tom! My name is Tom." He interrupted before Tord could say anything else about him he didn't want to be shared.

Tord smirked,"Well Tom doesn't have as good a ring to it, but if you want that nickname that's fine."

Tom growled under his breath which only pleased Tord more," Well now that we have that out of the way, today we'll be doing armed defense simulations. You'll each get a buddy and practise dodging each other's bullets. Don't worry, not real bullets, Patryk said that kills people. But I said it's just more motivation to dodge. I lost so we went and bought these "harmless" NERF guns. So knock yourselves out with them. They won't be harmless out in the field so don't get used to suction cup styrofoam hitting you in the back."

Paul and Patryk brought around bright yellow NERF guns, handing them out to everyone. It all seemed so childish for a group of armed soldiers preparing for possible war. But they didn't argue.

Tom got his along with 10 small bullets. He was still not sure how any of this had to do with training for war, but it wasn't his place to make judgement. Everyone was getting into pairs with the people they already knew and were setting off to their own place in the room. Even the soldier he had just met had found a partner and was already shooting aimed bullets for them to dodge and counter. Guess he couldn't expect to get the new guy treatment everywhere.

He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and he turned around to see who it was. It was the last person he wanted to see, Tord gave him an innocent stare, holding up his neon Nerf gun as if modeling it.

"How about it, old friend?" He said in his strong Norwegian accent.

Tom looked around desperately to see if there was someone, anyone else who needed a partner. No one, he sighed and steadied his plastic gun in his hand.

"I'm not your friend," It wasn't an answer, but they both knew he couldn't say no.

"Great, try and hit me," Tord ordered, stretching his hands out in a 'hit me with your best shot' gesture.

Tom shifted the gun comfortably in his hand and pulled the trigger, sending the small bullet spiraling in Tord's direction.

Tord dodged with ease and returned the gesture with his own styrofoam bullet which hit Tom in the chest, making him step back in surprise.

"Come on Jovy, you can do better than that." Tord teased,"pretend it's a harpoon gun."

Tom growled at the nickname and aimed again, this time from the side, another shot.

Tord dodged, but the bullet managed to scrap a crossed his left arm (the non injured one)

"Aw come on, trying to bust up both my arms?" He laughed, sending a bullet back at him again.

This went on for some time, Tom shooting, Tord dodging and firing back. Neither of them ever got hit by the others bullets for the duration of the training period.

"You're very good Tom, you have untrained skills in combat. I've trained for years though, this is your first day." Tord stated, huffing slightly

"Well maybe the newbie will have to teach you a thing or two then," Tom claimed, adrenaline rushing through him.

"Why don't we try something more exciting than Mr. Expert." Tord replied, grabbing his gun off the wall, " Dodge this."

Tom had no idea what really happened next, it went in a blur. He felt himself slam into the carpeted wall and grab something smooth and metal. The large bang from in front of him and his index finger on the trigger, pulling it down hard. The blast made him stumble slightly. His ears were ringing. His mind cleared slowly, his breathing still heavy and rapid. Tord was staring at him with a look of utter disbelief and confusion. When he looked around he could see the majority of the group doing the same. He didn't know what he did, was he dead? All he remembered was Tord grabbing his gun, shooting at him to dodge. He felt the small weight in his arms and recognized the rifle and the empty place where it once lay on the wall.

Then everything around him was noticeable. There lay a large hole in the wall behind Tord, written with dust and concrete wall. Then the floor. A small, hollow cylinder lay abandoned on the ground. Its edges ripped and shattered, like something had torn through it. And something did. Tom's bullet had caressed right through Tord's, and barely missed Tord himself and hit the wall. The remains of the bullet now lay at it feet.

And everyone stared like it was most spectacular thing they had seen in their small, little lifes.

He dodged the bullet, he countered the bullet. And the bullet was the simple reminder, of what could've been.

Who would've died.

And the gun fell with a clang.


	8. Chapter 6

"Training period is over everyone, head to breakfast…" Paul announced after a few minutes of dead, painful silence.

Everyone filed out, murmuring things like, "did you see that?" "He shot straight through the bullet" "impossible".

Tom's borrowed gun was still on the floor next to the hollowed bullet. He stared at it, no words, no clear emotion, just an endless staring contest.

He missed the soft footprints near his position, yet he recognized the bandaged hand pick up the gun. They shuffled next to him, the end of the gun hitting against his ribs followed by his hushed voice.

"Don't act so special because you did that Tom, we both know it was pure luck on your part. So if people start asking for autographs and stare googly eyes at you and makes you feel all tingly inside. You can go to your own little happy fairy-tale land for all I care. But being special isn't gonna help you in this war Tom, it'll just pull you down harder. Harder into little sunshine lollipop heck."

The gun pulled away from his ribs and found it's place back on the wall. Tom finally looked up, meeting eyes with Tord, or eye. If you called a bandaged eye accessible to a staring contest. It made Tom wonder what was under all that bandage, how beaten up the explosion left him. Tord noticed he was still staring and moved the process along.

"Well go on, your breakfast is gonna get cold." Tord gestured for Tom to leave by eyeballing the door every few seconds.

Tom came back from his thoughts and nodded, walking towards the door and out of the room. Not looking back.

Tord was alone in the room, every aspect of the room felt a degree more noticeable without the crowd of people to distract your attention. The soft blow of the air conditioning. The clanging within the vents. It was all noticeable. But all Tord could focus on, was that bullet. That stupid bullet, a failed bullet.

" I was too eager, finishing it in front of all of them, I would've been disbanded." Tord said to himself, clenching his fist," But he blocked it, and it came back to bite."

He stared at the small bullet shaped hole in the wall, who knew how far down it went," He'll die sooner or later, and I'll be there to watch."

0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0

Tom only had to follow the smell and the sound of friendly chatter to find the cafeteria. It was a small room, but bigger than the training facility. Long tables sat in rows on one half of the room and the other half was reserved for food service. The soldiers stood in a well organized line as a group of men in hairnets, who were the poor souls stuck with the lunch shift, scooped food onto their trays.

Tom didn't realize how hungry he was till the scent of food entered into his system and his stomach growled. He quickly took his place in line, waiting as patiently as he could.

A group of three people in front of him were at it in an argument. The one in front was arguing with the guy behind him about twice his height. The girl at the back of the group stood awkwardly, adjusting her glasses.

"Stop touching her already, I will hurt you!" The guy at the front threatened.

"But it's fun, she likes it" the taller one countered smiling, extending his hand to touch the girl's upper arm.

She retreated away from his oncoming hand, but forgot she was in a tightly squeezed line and bumped into the person behind her, stumbling back.

The person she bumped into managed to catch her. The person who caught her, was Tom. Her face turned a bright red that could call ships into the harbor. It brought Rudolf to shame.

They both stood there, aimlessly until Tom decided to prop her upright himself.

"Y-you alright?..." he asked nervously. Her staring was making him feel uncomfortable, he looked back down at his boots like the leather was some interesting relic he discovered he'd been hauling around all this time on his feet.

She stammered, opening her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. After another minute of hopeless staring she turned around and acted like nothing happened.

The event had left a huge gap in the line in front of them and they both instantly ran forward to fill it in.

The people behind them grumbled a verse of "finally"s and "about time"s.

A whole lunch line later Tom had retrieved his lunch of a chicken patty sandwich with a side of fries and sat himself down at an empty table. He munched absently on an over salted French fry and maneuvered the rest around on his tray.

"Do you mind if we sit here?.." He heard someone say through his absent trail of thoughts.

He pried himself away from the pile of fries and looked up at the speaker. It was the last person he expected to see, but not the most unwanted one. Paul stood awkwardly a crossed from Tom on the table. Patryk walked silently up behind him, with the same question in mind. Tom swallowed the lump of potatoes in his mouth and nodded.

"Sure"

They took their seats on the metal bench and set their own chicken sandwiches on the table. There was a moment of silence before Paul spoke up.

"So… um… about what happened in training… did you mean to-?" Paul wouldn't have continued much further but Tom cut him off immediately .

"No. I don't know what happened really… it was sorta like my reflexes had a mind of their own.."

Paul glanced over at Patryk who did the same. More awkward silence, like there wasn't enough of that already.

"It's not something that happens everyday. No one gets that lucky…" Patryk decided to add out of the blue," The boss he…. Wasn't being cautious… if you hadn't done that trick shot-"

"Patryk!" Paul cut him off, but Tom knew what he was gonna say.

He would be dead on the floor right now. Not eating a breakfast consisting of barely cooked chicken and over salted fries. But choking on his own blood if not dying instantly. He shivered, pushing his tray away an inch or two.

Tom decided to change the subject ,"So.. if that was just the morning routine. What's booked for the rest of the day?"

Paul decided to answer this one," we have workouts after this, Then Lunch, after that it's Field preparedness and then we watch the raffle."

"Raffle?" Tom questioned, fully indulged now.

"Where they pick the soldiers they send out to the field, they found it the most fair way to decide." Patryk answered.

"Your name probably isn't in yet, but it'll go in soon. They don't even wait for the newbies." Paul added with distaste.

Before Tom could add anything a long, screeching bell rang out and Tom clamped his hands over his ears. When it was done the familiar voice erupted from the intercom.

"Everyone head to the weight room NOW before I stuff that sorry lump of meat down your throats"

It turned off with a click and it wasn't even a second before everyone got up, threw their plates away, and ran out the cafeteria door.

Things were just getting started it seemed.


	9. Chapter 7

"State your business." The desk clerk said coldly.

The two men fumbled around, bumping each other with their elbows to pass the task of speaking from themselves. It finally landed on the taller of the two. He had a head of golden blonde hair that swayed to one side neatly with gel. His chin was doubled giving him a slightly more ridiculous look. He fiddled with the sleeves of the purple turtleneck he was wearing while speaking.

"We're here t-to see Sergeant Milde…. We're uh… friends of his son…" he stammered, looking down slightly at his shoes. His companion nodded, as if confirming the statement beyond acceptance.

The clerk's expression changed to a more relaxed, but saddened look.

"So you're the poor souls she asked to tell him?" It was more of a statement then a question, but they nodded nonetheless," He's just this way, follow me" The woman retreated from her arm chair and lead them out of the entrance room. The two companions bit their lips nervously and the shorter one rubbed his neck with a sad expression.

The Clerk finally stopped at a door near the end of the hall labeled _Sergeant Milde_

on a silver plaque. She gave a soft knock and waited.

A deep voice responded,"Who is it?!"

"It's me sir," the Clerk responded," you've got some young men here to speak with you."

There was a slight pause then the same deep voice," Send them in."

The Clerk pushed open the door to reveal the setup inside. It was a similar arrangement to any cliche office room. A desk in the lead of the doorway. A window that should have brought a fresh ray of sunlight into the room only made the room more eerie by only shining small slivers through the blinds. The shorter of the two swallowed making an audible 'gulp' sound. This man had a mess of chocolate brown hair with a soft muzzle on his chin. His green, button up shirt suffering from a similar pulling and twisting.

The Clerk was gone before they could even think about turning back. They both took a shaky step into the room and the door shut on its own accord.

The tall black swivel chair rocked back and forth and spun counter-clockwise to face them. The man had a busy grey mustache under his nose. His face was square and dignified. Any hair he might've had was covered by a sturdy Sergeant hat. His uniform finished off the look nicely. The Sergeant's face changed from a intrigued, scary look to a kind, friendly one in a matter of seconds and he chuckled slightly.

"Aw I know you two! You're my son's friends, yes?" He bellowed, staring them down and keeping his cheery smile.

"Y-yep! That's us sir!" The Chocolate Brunette responded, doing his best to level the Sergeant's enthusiasm.

"You boys don't mean me any harm! I've gotten nothing but news reporters asking about war and politics and how our country is preparing for crap that ain't gonna happen." The Sergeant sighed, leaning back in his chair then straightening up like nothing had happened, " So what can I do for you boys?"

The two companions looked at one another, then the Sergeant. The taller one nudged the shorter, signaling that now it was his turn to talk.

For simplicity I will call them by their actual names. Because if you are reading this you should know who they are.

Eduardo stumbled forward, aimlessly fiddling with his fingers and refusing to make eye contact.

"Well… sir… we are actually here about your son! You see… well… your wife didn't want to um… do this herself… she's still trying to cope with it um…." Eduardo trailed off and the Sergeant once cheery expression was turning into a mix of confused and worried.

Mark stepped in, knowing for a fact that this was getting no where, "Sir… your son…. Is dead…."

It was as straightforward an answer as it could get and the following silence was unbearable. The Sergeant stared blankly into space for some time and started shifting uncontrollably.

After a seeming eternity and deadly silence he spoke, "How?..."

"Well… it's not the fanciest reveal but…. Someone nearby actually um… recorded the event if you… " Eduardo pulled out a black cased iPhone, unlocking the home screen, opening it up at the videos location, and handed it to the Sergeant.

It started playing at a familiar scene. A giant red mechabeast shooting an array of bullets at a defenseless house. Creating a whole new design of a Swiss cheese house. The camera was focused on the giant robot, but a voice could still be heard off camera.

"Hey! What's all the racket?!"

Eduardo tugged on his shirt collar nervously, looking up at the ceiling.

The Sergeant continued watching, the giant robot lifting one of its giant arms and shooting a launched missile towards direction of the voice. Another voice followed.

"It's not a racket it's a rocket."

The camera turned and a flash of a one-story green house with three figures standing outside it was shown only to have it covered in a mass explosions seconds later.

"Oh Gosh!" They heard the new voice, and due to the closeness of it they could only assume it was the camera holder,"I-i gotta get out of here!"

The video ended and the silence was awkward yet again.

Mark decided to man up and speak his part,"We… barely cleared the explosion… he did too… but he was caught in the second explosion…."

There was such an immediate response that it made the two jump," Second Explosion?! Who did this?!"

Eduardo swallowed a gathering layer of spit and answered," W-we weren't sure at first, but one of our neighbors… said that he was an 'old friend' named Tord-"

The Sergeant stood up like lightning. His chair rolling back to hit the wall behind him. They expected him to start yelling, to do something. They waited for a good 5 minutes and the continuous silences were proving to be their own kind of deadly. The Sergeant pulled his grubby hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, and without removing it he spoke.

"You can go…." His voice was the opposite of the one they had been greeted with and the two were in no way eager to stay any longer and showed themselves out, making sure to close the door behind them.

The Sergeant was alone with his own emotions, he could've screamed if he wanted, and believe me he wanted to. Instead he yanked open a drawer under his desk and pulled out a random wad of papers. He continued to pull the top paper off the pile trying to find a specific one. The papers he was aimlessly flinging were flying to all different corners of the room. When the fluttering of papers finally stopped the Sergeant was holding a slightly crumbled ID paper. It had the following information:

 _Name: Tord Johansen_

 _Force:_ _rød_

 _Rank: Leader_

 _Background: A history of scandalistic behavior and reckless endangerment of civilians. Is on a strike record (⅔). Past living area was Bristol, England along with 3 other civilians: Edd Newman, Tom Bowen, and Matt Jeans._

It was also set with a picture of Tord in his usual soldier outfit, minus the recent injuries.

The small paper crumbled instantly under the Sergeant's grip and fell to the floor with silently. Only to be smashed by a nearby mud stained leather boot. His finger pushed down the square button on his intercom and without waiting to be asked he spoke into it.

"Hellen gather the troops," He picked up the crumbled paper and softly unfolded it to show the paper in even more poor condition than it was. Next he grabbed his silver cigarette lighter off the table and clicked back the lid. The small flame lighting up the room only slightly. He set the innocent flame at the corner of the paper and watched as the paper started to turn black and crumble, spreading outward," We're going to war."

The paper dropped to the desk, the flames consuming the small picture in the corner.

Only ashes hit the table.

"State your business." The desk clerk said coldly.

The two men fumbled around, bumping each other with their elbows to pass the task of speaking from themselves. It finally landed on the taller of the two. He had a head of golden blonde hair that swayed to one side neatly with gel. His chin was doubled giving him a slightly more ridiculous look. He fiddled with the sleeves of the purple turtleneck he was wearing while speaking.

"We're here t-to see Sergeant Milde…. We're uh… friends of his son…" he stammered, looking down slightly at his shoes. His companion nodded, as if confirming the statement beyond acceptance.

The clerk's expression changed to a more relaxed, but saddened look.

"So you're the poor souls she asked to tell him?" It was more of a statement then a question, but they nodded nonetheless," He's just this way, follow me" The woman retreated from her arm chair and lead them out of the entrance room. The two companions bit their lips nervously and the shorter one rubbed his neck with a sad expression.

The Clerk finally stopped at a door near the end of the hall labeled _Sergeant Milde_

on a silver plaque. She gave a soft knock and waited.

A deep voice responded,"Who is it?!"

"It's me sir," the Clerk responded," you've got some young men here to speak with you."

There was a slight pause then the same deep voice," Send them in."

The Clerk pushed open the door to reveal the setup inside. It was a similar arrangement to any cliche office room. A desk in the lead of the doorway. A window that should have brought a fresh ray of sunlight into the room only made the room more eerie by only shining small slivers through the blinds. The shorter of the two swallowed making an audible 'gulp' sound. This man had a mess of chocolate brown hair with a soft muzzle on his chin. His green, button up shirt suffering from a similar pulling and twisting.

The Clerk was gone before they could even think about turning back. They both took a shaky step into the room and the door shut on its own accord.

The tall black swivel chair rocked back and forth and spun counter-clockwise to face them. The man had a busy grey mustache under his nose. His face was square and dignified. Any hair he might've had was covered by a sturdy Sergeant hat. His uniform finished off the look nicely. The Sergeant's face changed from a intrigued, scary look to a kind, friendly one in a matter of seconds and he chuckled slightly.

"Aw I know you two! You're my son's friends, yes?" He bellowed, staring them down and keeping his cheery smile.

"Y-yep! That's us sir!" The Chocolate Brunette responded, doing his best to level the Sergeant's enthusiasm.

"You boys don't mean me any harm! I've gotten nothing but news reporters asking about war and politics and how our country is preparing for crap that ain't gonna happen." The Sergeant sighed, leaning back in his chair then straightening up like nothing had happened, " So what can I do for you boys?"

The two companions looked at one another, then the Sergeant. The taller one nudged the shorter, signaling that now it was his turn to talk.

For simplicity I will call them by their actual names. Because if you are reading this you should know who they are.

Eduardo stumbled forward, aimlessly fiddling with his fingers and refusing to make eye contact.

"Well… sir… we are actually here about your son! You see… well… your wife didn't want to um… do this herself… she's still trying to cope with it um…." Eduardo trailed off and the Sergeant once cheery expression was turning into a mix of confused and worried.

Mark stepped in, knowing for a fact that this was getting no where, "Sir… your son…. Is dead…."

It was as straightforward an answer as it could get and the following silence was unbearable. The Sergeant stared blankly into space for some time and started shifting uncontrollably.

After a seeming eternity and deadly silence he spoke, "How?..."

"Well… it's not the fanciest reveal but…. Someone nearby actually um… recorded the event if you… " Eduardo pulled out a black cased iPhone, unlocking the home screen, opening it up at the videos location, and handed it to the Sergeant.

It started playing at a familiar scene. A giant red mechabeast shooting an array of bullets at a defenseless house. Creating a whole new design of a Swiss cheese house. The camera was focused on the giant robot, but a voice could still be heard off camera.

"Hey! What's all the racket?!"

Eduardo tugged on his shirt collar nervously, looking up at the ceiling.

The Sergeant continued watching, the giant robot lifting one of its giant arms and shooting a launched missile towards direction of the voice. Another voice followed.

"It's not a racket it's a rocket."

The camera turned and a flash of a one-story green house with three figures standing outside it was shown only to have it covered in a mass explosions seconds later.

"Oh Gosh!" They heard the new voice, and due to the closeness of it they could only assume it was the camera holder,"I-i gotta get out of here!"

The video ended and the silence was awkward yet again.

Mark decided to man up and speak his part,"We… barely cleared the explosion… he did too… but he was caught in the second explosion…."

There was such an immediate response that it made the two jump," Second Explosion?! Who did this?!"

Eduardo swallowed a gathering layer of spit and answered," W-we weren't sure at first, but one of our neighbors… said that he was an 'old friend' named Tord-"

The Sergeant stood up like lightning. His chair rolling back to hit the wall behind him. They expected him to start yelling, to do something. They waited for a good 5 minutes and the continuous silences were proving to be their own kind of deadly. The Sergeant pulled his grubby hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, and without removing it he spoke.

"You can go…." His voice was the opposite of the one they had been greeted with and the two were in no way eager to stay any longer and showed themselves out, making sure to close the door behind them.

The Sergeant was alone with his own emotions, he could've screamed if he wanted, and believe me he wanted to. Instead he yanked open a drawer under his desk and pulled out a random wad of papers. He continued to pull the top paper off the pile trying to find a specific one. The papers he was aimlessly flinging were flying to all different corners of the room. When the fluttering of papers finally stopped the Sergeant was holding a slightly crumbled ID paper. It had the following information:

 _Name: Tord Johansen_

 _Force:_ _rød_

 _Rank: Leader_

 _Background: A history of scandalistic behavior and reckless endangerment of civilians. Is on a strike record (⅔). Past living area was Bristol, England along with 3 other civilians: Edd Newman, Tom Bowen, and Matt Jeans._

It was also set with a picture of Tord in his usual soldier outfit, minus the recent injuries.

The small paper crumbled instantly under the Sergeant's grip and fell to the floor with silently. Only to be smashed by a nearby mud stained leather boot. His finger pushed down the square button on his intercom and without waiting to be asked he spoke into it.

"Hellen gather the troops," He picked up the crumbled paper and softly unfolded it to show the paper in even more poor condition than it was. Next he grabbed his silver cigarette lighter off the table and clicked back the lid. The small flame lighting up the room only slightly. He set the innocent flame at the corner of the paper and watched as the paper started to turn black and crumble, spreading outward," We're going to war."

The paper dropped to the desk, the flames consuming the small picture in the corner.

Only ashes hit the table.

"State your business." The desk clerk said coldly.

The two men fumbled around, bumping each other with their elbows to pass the task of speaking from themselves. It finally landed on the taller of the two. He had a head of golden blonde hair that swayed to one side neatly with gel. His chin was doubled giving him a slightly more ridiculous look. He fiddled with the sleeves of the purple turtleneck he was wearing while speaking.

"We're here t-to see Sergeant Milde…. We're uh… friends of his son…" he stammered, looking down slightly at his shoes. His companion nodded, as if confirming the statement beyond acceptance.

The clerk's expression changed to a more relaxed, but saddened look.

"So you're the poor souls she asked to tell him?" It was more of a statement then a question, but they nodded nonetheless," He's just this way, follow me" The woman retreated from her arm chair and lead them out of the entrance room. The two companions bit their lips nervously and the shorter one rubbed his neck with a sad expression.

The Clerk finally stopped at a door near the end of the hall labeled _Sergeant Milde_

on a silver plaque. She gave a soft knock and waited.

A deep voice responded,"Who is it?!"

"It's me sir," the Clerk responded," you've got some young men here to speak with you."

There was a slight pause then the same deep voice," Send them in."

The Clerk pushed open the door to reveal the setup inside. It was a similar arrangement to any cliche office room. A desk in the lead of the doorway. A window that should have brought a fresh ray of sunlight into the room only made the room more eerie by only shining small slivers through the blinds. The shorter of the two swallowed making an audible 'gulp' sound. This man had a mess of chocolate brown hair with a soft muzzle on his chin. His green, button up shirt suffering from a similar pulling and twisting.

The Clerk was gone before they could even think about turning back. They both took a shaky step into the room and the door shut on its own accord.

The tall black swivel chair rocked back and forth and spun counter-clockwise to face them. The man had a busy grey mustache under his nose. His face was square and dignified. Any hair he might've had was covered by a sturdy Sergeant hat. His uniform finished off the look nicely. The Sergeant's face changed from a intrigued, scary look to a kind, friendly one in a matter of seconds and he chuckled slightly.

"Aw I know you two! You're my son's friends, yes?" He bellowed, staring them down and keeping his cheery smile.

"Y-yep! That's us sir!" The Chocolate Brunette responded, doing his best to level the Sergeant's enthusiasm.

"You boys don't mean me any harm! I've gotten nothing but news reporters asking about war and politics and how our country is preparing for crap that ain't gonna happen." The Sergeant sighed, leaning back in his chair then straightening up like nothing had happened, " So what can I do for you boys?"

The two companions looked at one another, then the Sergeant. The taller one nudged the shorter, signaling that now it was his turn to talk.

For simplicity I will call them by their actual names. Because if you are reading this you should know who they are.

Eduardo stumbled forward, aimlessly fiddling with his fingers and refusing to make eye contact.

"Well… sir… we are actually here about your son! You see… well… your wife didn't want to um… do this herself… she's still trying to cope with it um…." Eduardo trailed off and the Sergeant once cheery expression was turning into a mix of confused and worried.

Mark stepped in, knowing for a fact that this was getting no where, "Sir… your son…. Is dead…."

It was as straightforward an answer as it could get and the following silence was unbearable. The Sergeant stared blankly into space for some time and started shifting uncontrollably.

After a seeming eternity and deadly silence he spoke, "How?..."

"Well… it's not the fanciest reveal but…. Someone nearby actually um… recorded the event if you… " Eduardo pulled out a black cased iPhone, unlocking the home screen, opening it up at the videos location, and handed it to the Sergeant.

It started playing at a familiar scene. A giant red mechabeast shooting an array of bullets at a defenseless house. Creating a whole new design of a Swiss cheese house. The camera was focused on the giant robot, but a voice could still be heard off camera.

"Hey! What's all the racket?!"

Eduardo tugged on his shirt collar nervously, looking up at the ceiling.

The Sergeant continued watching, the giant robot lifting one of its giant arms and shooting a launched missile towards direction of the voice. Another voice followed.

"It's not a racket it's a rocket."

The camera turned and a flash of a one-story green house with three figures standing outside it was shown only to have it covered in a mass explosions seconds later.

"Oh Gosh!" They heard the new voice, and due to the closeness of it they could only assume it was the camera holder,"I-i gotta get out of here!"

The video ended and the silence was awkward yet again.

Mark decided to man up and speak his part,"We… barely cleared the explosion… he did too… but he was caught in the second explosion…."

There was such an immediate response that it made the two jump," Second Explosion?! Who did this?!"

Eduardo swallowed a gathering layer of spit and answered," W-we weren't sure at first, but one of our neighbors… said that he was an 'old friend' named Tord-"

The Sergeant stood up like lightning. His chair rolling back to hit the wall behind him. They expected him to start yelling, to do something. They waited for a good 5 minutes and the continuous silences were proving to be their own kind of deadly. The Sergeant pulled his grubby hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, and without removing it he spoke.

"You can go…." His voice was the opposite of the one they had been greeted with and the two were in no way eager to stay any longer and showed themselves out, making sure to close the door behind them.

The Sergeant was alone with his own emotions, he could've screamed if he wanted, and believe me he wanted to. Instead he yanked open a drawer under his desk and pulled out a random wad of papers. He continued to pull the top paper off the pile trying to find a specific one. The papers he was aimlessly flinging were flying to all different corners of the room. When the fluttering of papers finally stopped the Sergeant was holding a slightly crumbled ID paper. It had the following information:

 _Name: Tord Johansen_

 _Force:_ _rød_

 _Rank: Leader_

 _Background: A history of scandalistic behavior and reckless endangerment of civilians. Is on a strike record (⅔). Past living area was Bristol, England along with 3 other civilians: Edd Newman, Tom Bowen, and Matt Jeans._

It was also set with a picture of Tord in his usual soldier outfit, minus the recent injuries.

The small paper crumbled instantly under the Sergeant's grip and fell to the floor with silently. Only to be smashed by a nearby mud stained leather boot. His finger pushed down the square button on his intercom and without waiting to be asked he spoke into it.

"Hellen gather the troops," He picked up the crumbled paper and softly unfolded it to show the paper in even more poor condition than it was. Next he grabbed his silver cigarette lighter off the table and clicked back the lid. The small flame lighting up the room only slightly. He set the innocent flame at the corner of the paper and watched as the paper started to turn black and crumble, spreading outward," We're going to war."

The paper dropped to the desk, the flames consuming the small picture in the corner.

Only ashes hit the table.


	10. Chapter 8

Any Girl would be lying if they didn't want to see a room full of shirtless, buff army men lifting weights. Any Guy would be lying if they were just going in there to get fit.

You can't go in that room. Reveal your Buff. And not try to one-up someone.

This is where Tom's problems started. Tom had his own share of muscle power, which would look impressive anywhere else. But in here he looked like a stick in a pile of logs. It was understandable, everyone in here had been lifting a lot longer than he had.

He tried avoiding the onslaught of guys grabbing bigger and bigger dumbbells and eyeballing him as he grabbed a 20 pounder. It was only about a minute when.

"Hey! Newbie!" It was a deep voice that could fit any cliche high school bully.

Tom looked up slightly, continuing to bring the weight up to his chest and down again. The guy was sporting a six pack and a smirk that could do Tord justice (as if). Tom didnt reply, he didnt have to, the guy stopped down and grabbed an 80 pounder of the rack and maneuvered it with ease.

" You can show off in the training room, but in here is men's turf, so I think you should run off back to the Ladies Room."

Tom stopped, the dumbbell dangling in mid-action. The last thing Tom wanted to do was act like a special little snowflake and try and strut his stuff. But he also wanted to show this little son of a gun he couldn't walk all over him.

He set down the 20 pounder back on the rack, reached down and used as much physical strength he had to lift the 90 pound dumbbell on the bottom shelf. Lifting it to his chest and down just like the 20.

Of course his show didn't last long. His arm gave out and the weight fell and landed right on the guys foot. His scream proceeded in seconds with a mix of every curse known to man. Before Tom could even explain it wasnt purposely acted out there were two large hands around his neck squeezing down hard.

"IM GONNA F****** YOU!" The Man yelled.

Tom's vision was going 20 to dead in a matter of seconds. He could faintly see surrounding soldiers coming in to try and calm him down and pry his hands off Tom's neck. Blackness was quickly consuming his vision and he couldn't help but curse at himself for being so prideful and stupid.

He felt the strong hands release themselves from around his neck and his body collapsed instantly. Sputtering for air. Enough to keep him alive, but not conscious . His vision slipped completely.

Death wouldn't stop trolling him today.


	11. Chapter 9

"You honestly think I care if we have to send him home?!"

Tom squinted. His head was pounding insanely and he could barely make out anything more than a blur of colors. He could hear the voices coming from every direction.

"But sir, we are dropping in numbers. If we just let his foot heal then he can-" the softer voice was interrupted by the voice Tom could recognize anywhere.

"He's useless, I don't want an injured man slowing down my army, is that understood?!" Tord seemed angry, angrier than usual.

There was a extended moment of silence that made Tom think he had slipped consciousness again. But the voice soon returned.

"Yes sir…"

Tom heard what sounded like a door being slammed shut, it shook the room and returned his vision slightly. He decided to pull the smart move and act like he was just woken up. Putting on an act of loud moaning and shifting. The nurse jumped slightly in surprise and rushed over to him.

"Oh! Y-you're awake!" She said putting on a cheery personality and examining Tom's head. "You've been out for a good few hours. It was quite scary. I had to return some air to your lungs. You could've died today you know that."

"Yeah, that's been happening a lot recently…"

The Nurse seemed to ignore that comment and continued talking," Well you should be fine. I've cleared you to rest for the remainder of the day. You missed lunch so I had someone leave you a tray on your bed."

Tom nodded, thanking the nurse before leaving the room. He sighed. A big, long, exhausted sigh. He traced back the route from earlier that day to help him get back to his dorm. The food was cold which was slightly disappointing since it was grilled cheese. But the fact that he was starving made it not matter too much.

He munched on it silently. First day and he had almost died twice, and sent to the nurse's office. Thinking back to the Nurse's office, he just couldn't wrap his head around what Tord said.

Why would Tord want to keep him, if he had the chance to kick him out. Why didn't he take that chance. Actually. Why was he even here now? Tom pondered this, taking another bite out of his sandwich. It just made his head hurt. He finished the sandwich and sat back against the wall. Glancing at the clock, it read **16:31.**

Tom didn't like having to mentally find out the 12 hour time, so he could actually know how late it was. **4:31**. It wasn't early, but not a time Tom really considered 'bedtime worthy'. Well. That was until a few seconds later, when he suddenly could barely keep his eyes open. The sudden wave of sleepiness was strange, really strange. Almost like… and with that Tom literally couldn't put together a sentence. His mind had mentally turned off.

"Gonna… sleep is nice… hehe…. Yeah.. wow… my hand looks funny.. L.o.l…." If this was normal behavior then Tom belonged in a mental asylum. Luckily, it wasn't.

He fell back on his pillow and was asleep in seconds.

Of course the nurse didn't trust any of the soldiers to actually listen to her words of advice to rest.

So she took a more forceful approach.

Sleeping drops went really well with sandwiches.


	12. Chapter 10

Edd knocked a second time on the door labeled 104, shuffling in the same area as he did. Still, no one came to the door. He sighed sadly. This is the second day Tom had been gone. And Edd being one of his close friends it worried him dearly.

He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket and solemnly walked one house over. 105. He gave that door a knock and within seconds the door swung open. Revealing Matt in his usual purple hoodie, minus the overcoat, and a pair of pajamas with small versions of himself with different expressions scattered a crossed them.

"Hey Edd! Any luck finding Tom?" Matt asked, towering roughly a whole foot over Edd.

"No.. he's still not home. Wonder where he ran off to-" Edd paused, looking down at Matt's pajamas ," Matt... are those pajamas... With your face on them?..."

Matt glanced down at his pants and back down at Edd with a stupid grin on his face," Yep! I special ordered them online! Came in yesterday! Aren't they great?!"

Edd stared the pants up and down, contemplating what to say," They're great Matt-"

Matt smiled bigger, opening the door wider,"Come on in! Insane Zombie Pirates from Hell 5 isn't gonna watch itself!"

Edd walked in under Matt's arm, and decided to examine the house again. Despite it being the 10th time he'd been there. It was just so weird and 'Matt'. About every few steps there was a small 10 by 5 mirror on the wall. Just at Matt's height. Figured. What was supposed to be the dining room was basically instead a full out shrine to himself. Pictures and mirrors all over the walls. Even a statue of himself spitting out water into a bird bath.

Edd rolled his eyes, Matt was the most conceited man he'd ever met. But he wouldn't have him any other way. They were friends and that wouldn't change.

Matt led him to the living room where it was slightly less abnormal and there was actually a picture of him and his whole family on the wall next to the couch. Edd smiled a little and sat down, Matt sitting a crossed on the other couch. Putting his feet up on the coffee table and playing with his hands.

"So, what's up Edd? While we wait for the popcorn would you like a drink?" Matt asked, looking over to his kitchen.

Edd leaned forward in order to make sure Matt didn't leave just yet, "Well.. it's about Tom.."

Matt's face perked up at the mention of his friend and he turned to face Edd again, " Tom?! Did he come back?!"

Edd was silent and avoided eye contact, he didn't want to rid Matt of his false hope, but what else could he say? When Edd continued to say nothing Matt frowned.

"Where could he have run off to Edd? Ever since Tord came back... he's been a little out there... you know?"

Edd nodded, he had noticed his friend wasn't really paying attention most of the time. Who could blame him. Edd himself struggled to sleep for a few days after the incident... and Tord had just disappeared like that. He could be dead for all they knew.

Matt got up and headed to the kitchen, Edd watched him curiously. He got out two glass cups and filled them both up from the sink so it left a small bubbling in the water. He walked back to the living room and handed a glass to Edd who took it gratefully. Sipping it slightly and placing back on the coffee table.

Matt gulped down his and laid the empty cup on the table. Edd was staring out the window next to the couch, the cars were zooming by on the traffic light free road. Some turning into the parking lot of the apartment buildings.

Matt sighed, watching his friend watch aimlessly out the window. He just wanted Tom to come back, leave a text, note, anything! He just left out of the blue, at least... at least Tord... didn't.

Edds eye caught something flapping in the wind out of the corner of his eye. It looked like paper, but he couldn't quite tell since it was on the same wall they were on. A strong gust of wind ran through the trees and knocking the weak autumn leaves off the trees. Along with it came the paper Edd has seen out the corner of his eye. And now it was completely visible. It was pushed up against the window and flapping violently. It made both Edd and Matt jump in their seats.

Edd went forward carefully and opened half of the window and reached to grab the paper, but it just missed his grasp as a new gust of wind went through and knocked it off the window. Edd wasn't gonna let it get away. He thrust forward and grabbed it out of the air.

Unfortunately he reached a little too far and felt himself continuing to fall out of the window.

"Wait no no no" Edd muttered as he caught sight of how high he was. He shut his eyes and waited to make contact with the ground. But instead he felt two arms wrap around his chest and pull him back and onto the floor with a grunt.

Edd opened his eyes and saw himself placed awkwardly in between Matt's long legs as he was sprawled on the floor. He got up and blushed awkwardly. Matt sat up and straightened his hair slightly.

"That was a close one Edd!" Matt exclaimed,"Don't scare me like that!"

But Edd wasn't really paying attention, he was examining the paper in his hand. It was slightly crumpled, but still very much legible.

Edd looked up at Matt, since he has stood up to see what Edd was so invested in, with a look of horror and fear.

"Matt. I think I know where Tom is."


	13. Chapter 11

Tom came to for what seemed like the millionth time that day. He had a perfect view of the hard concrete ceiling that completed the rooms dreary look. Groaning, he sat up in his bed and looked around, forgetting almost what the last 2 days.

He rubbed his face and leaned forward and propped his knees, bent, onto the bed to rest his arms on. As he leaned over he felt something jab into his stomach uncomfortably. Straightening up he patted his coat, feeling something underneath in his hoodie. He unbuttoned the overcoat and reached into the hoodie pocket, pulling out a phone with a slightly askew phone case.

"Oh, I forgot I left that in there," he mumbled to himself

He clicked the home button and the screen came to life. The battery in the top right corner read 3% and Tom had neglected to bring a charger. Biting his lip he decided to hurry through his notifications.

There was a long list of missed calls and text messages, all from his friend Edd who, after seeing the messages, he had completley spaced about. Tom stopped looking at the flood of notifications to sink into his own ball of stupidity and mental face-palms. The idea that he had forgotten to even mention his departure to his two best friends was a little too hard to process. He could hardly believe it even with the multiple times he glanced at the messages on the lock screen. He usually left his phone on silent at night and he hadn't changed it since the last day.

Above the flow of messages, there was a large, white colored, digital clock that read the current time: 12:35 A.M.

Simply looking at the lock screen had brought Tom's phone down to 2%, so he began to act fast. The messages didn't take long to read, they were mostly the same repeated phrase: "Tom are you home? You've been gone a while."

Moving even faster, Tom opened his contacts, pressing the tab that read Edd's name with a small picture next to it. The phone gave his figure an eery glow in the darkness of night and twinkling stars outside.

The wind was sneaky, coming suddenly in loud swooshes at random moments in time. Trying in vain to break through the mountain face.

Back at Tom's phone, it was now showing an enlarged contact picture of Edd with two different phone outlines out both lower corners of the screen. One was red and the other was green.

The phone rang ominously in the dark as Tom moved it up to his ear. It kept ringing, leaving deadly silences in between them. After a few more rings the phone beeped and began to play a prerecorded message with a familiar peppy voice.

"Hello, you've reached Edd Newman, I can't come to phone because I'm probably off doing something crazy and stupid"

A different voice interrupted, but still a familiar one.

"We're not always doing crazy and stupid things."

Yet another voice, one Tom knew all too well as it was his own

"Yes we do."

"Yeah you're right.."

said the second voice back in defeat

The first voice laughed and then referred back to the voice message

"Anyway, please leave a message after the beep! Beeeep!"

After the self-made beep sound, the phone's own beep sounded and then the phone went silent, waiting for him to speak into it. Tom sighed, knowing he had to before his phone died and he wouldn't get another chance to say something.

"Hey Edd...seems I've completely disappeared huh... I'm such an idiot... I never even thought to tell you where I was going..." Tom paused, thinking over if he should reveal even now," Well... I can't say... I'm sorry. But just know I'm okay, you don't need to worry. Don't go looking for me, I'm not worth it. Just keep living your happy lives in the apartments. Tell Matt I'm sorry too, I'm sorry... I should've said goodbye properly... this is the best I can do. Just know I... miss you guys. Bye.."

He released the phone from his head and pressed the small red phone, returning his phone to his home screen just in time for it to fade into black at 0%.

Wet drops fell onto the empty screen and split a crossed it like glass. Tom shook, his hands trembling as he held the phone.

The wind hit the window with the same swoosh, as if trying to catch a glance or distract him. It only reminded him of that night, and how stupid jumping into this really was.

He was looking death in eye, at knife point and with no way back to the world he used to live.


	14. Chapter 12

The next few days weren't hardly as hectic as the first for Tom. He continued to follow directions like any other soldier, and Tord seemed to become less and less intent on messing with him. Tom hardly noticed, his mind would always go back to his phone, lying on his bed, consumed in a deep emptiness. He wanted to know, he couldn't bear it, having to just assume they would listen, assume they got his message...

"Tom, are you okay?"

Tom blinked a few times, breaking from his train of thought to see his lunch-mates staring at him in concern. He had started sitting with Cosvin, the one who had helped him find his way on his first day, and their friends at mealtimes He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, pulling off a fake smile.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, I just got lost in thought." Tom shrugged, making a hole in his mound of mashed potatoes.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," The one to Cosvin's right said before stuffing a spoonful of potatoes in their mouth. He had forgotten their name, they weren't at the table as much as the other two.

"Oh, well, I've just had a lot on my mind I guess.." Tom mumbled, playing with his carrots.

"Like what?" Asked Cosvin, sipping some of their Coke through a small straw.

"I don't want to talk about it," Tom snapped, a little more aggressive than he meant it to be.

They didn't push him anymore after that, which he was glad for. They continued to eat in silence, Tom staring down at his food. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the third party-member glancing at him slightly. As soon as they made eye contact she looked away, face turning red. Tom raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off and continued to play with his food.

0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0

Tord spun around in his swivel chair, slumped down so his shoulders hit the arm rests. His expression reflected one that was bored and peeved in one single instant. The table vibrated loudly above his head, making him groan. Sitting up, he stared down at the cause of the vibrations. His phone bounced back and forth in a rhythmic pattern, displaying a contact picture next to a green phone symbol. Underneath, in white bold letters, it read the name of the person calling.

Tord rubbed his eyes with his good hand in a massaging matter, sinking back into his chair and letting it roll back towards the back wall. He waited for the ringing to cease. Finally it did, ending the call with a click. Sighing, it stood and picked up the phone, scrolling through the column of notifications reading "Missed Call".

" I should've done this before I hired him.." Tord spoke softly to himself. He flipped through his phone, opening up the contacts app. Scrolling down, he clicked on the contact that had been filling up his phone with so many notifications. Sliding his finger to the right, it revealed a large red button next to the name. He clicked on it.

You want to delete Edd from your contacts?

Yes No

The small pop-up came up on the screen. Tords fingers hesitated, trembling above the yes button. A knock sounded from his office door, making him jump and drop his phone on the desk. He cursed shouting towards the door.

"What?!"

The door creaked open, revealing Patryk's nervous figure.

"Um.. sir, we just got word that a general from the head branch will be... checking in..." He said from the doorway.

Tord paused, a single drop of sweat pooling down the side of his face, his voice gaining a tremble.

"W-when.."

"Tomorrow morning..."

"That's not enough time..." Tord hissed, clenching his fists on the desk, "Why must I take care of everything..." Tord moved around his desk, following Patryk with a scowl.

His phone lay still face up on the desk, on the contact page. As the door closed, the phone rang and vibrated, as if pleading for an answer. Even though there was no one around to do so.

/I'm so sorry the updates are so short and so far apart. But hopefully you can bare with me and i'll keep being motivated


	15. Journal Entry 2

It's been awhile since I've written in this, I thought I might as well do it more often.

I'm Starting to regret having come here. Because, I don't think I forgot to tell Edd and Matt I was leaving. I think I knew somewhere in the back of my head that I couldn't tell them. I couldn't or they would stop I told them I wouldn't get to..

I'm stupid

Why am I here?! What am I trying to prove?!

That Tord's alive? That I can do something. That I didn't mess up again?

I've been asking anyone that I find if they have a charger I can use. They all say no… but with a wandering eye. I wouldn't be surprised if Tord was responsible….

It's nearly time for bench presses, we get a half hour break after lunch before it.

I just really wish I wasn't here anymore….


	16. Chapter 13

Tom sat on the wooden bench stretching across the

bottom of the lockers. He had a wet towel hanging around his neck and dripping cool water over his worn body. He was hunched over with his arms resting on his legs. Around him, everyone was both getting dressed and messing off.

Tom eyed two guys having a arm wrestling match while doing a plank. The match had gathered a small crowd of whooping, shirtless men. Tom couldn't care less.

He stood up and opened his own square, gray locker.

At that moment the door to the locker room sprang open, banging hard against the adjacent wall. Everyone was quiet in an instant, scrambling to regain some sort of composure. It wasn't an easy feat considering the majority, including Tom, were shirtless and sweaty.

Tord's boot clamped against the tiles of the locker room as he walked through. He stopped so he was in view of all the different aisles of lockers. Peering left and right, frowning with a furrowed brow. Tom sat back down on the bench and leaned his back against the lockers, turned away from Tord's gaze.

Tord cleared his throat as he stretched out his red hoodie under his over coat, as if to free up his nerves.

"Soldiers, I have just been informed… that one of the generals from the head branch will be paying us a visit tomorrow" Tord announced.

This caused some to start whispering quietly between themselves. Tord grumbled loudly and looked towards Patryk. Patryk stood up straight and pulled out his gun, aimed it at the ceiling, and shot a few empty shots.

It was silent again, Tord stepped forward again, his arms set standardly behind him.

"Because of this, I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. They will be inspecting our daily routine to evaluate, and I'm sure many of you will take this as a chance to make yourself look more dignified than you actually are." Tord eyed the assortment of towels and deodorant cans littered a crossed the floor," So have I made the situation clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Everyone chanted, standing up straight and dignified. Which looked plain ridiculous in the almost non existent attire they each had on.

"Good," Tord said, turning around to leave, Patryk following close behind him. He stopped just before exiting into the hall," Oh Johvy, almost forgot, someone was looking for you." Without any more details, Tord was gone and the door had shut behind him.

The room erupted in conversation.

"Someone from the head branch? Wonder who it is"

"There hasn't been an inspection here for years!"

"There's a head branch?"

Tom stared the door, immersed in a different topic.

"Who was looking for me?.."

The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty corridor. Boots hitting tile, smacking the ground with every step. The brim of a brown overcoat hit just below their knee cap. Shadow consumed most of the halls, and the stranger, it mirrored the dark void outside.

The moon there was still a phosphorescent glow in the sky, surrounded by the faint shine of stars. Its position marked the time at just about 4:00 a.m.

The stranger glanced at the walls on either side of them, eyeing a small box hanging on the one to her right. It was marked with a red emergency symbol on a thin sheet of glass. Behind the glass was a circular red button. The figure walked over to it, peering down the stretch of hall at the many doors lining each side, before lifting up the sheet of glass and pushing the button.

Tom woke up to the irritating sound of an alarm. Not a wake-up one, but an emergency one. The emergency alarm had been triggered.

Tom rolled around in bed before managing to get up, hurrying to get his outfit on over her pajamas through a sleep haze. Grabbing his gun, he charged out the door, aiming it around frantically. Red lights were blaring in his vision, making it hard to focus on anything.

Many soldiers were already out in the halls with their guns, just as tired and just as frightened. Tord's voice entered the hall as he shouted.

"Don't stand there like idiots! Move, we might have an intrud-!" He stopped in his tracks, watching with disbelief as a figure walked towards them, clapping slowly.

Many soldiers aimed their guns, ready to fire.

"Wait, hold your fire!" Tord shouted, sweat pouring down in face.

The figure came into view now, wearing a brown overcoat. Her black hair was swept to one side of her face and ended at the small of her neck. The soldiers lowered their guns, realization striking them finally through their tired expressions.

Tom stared, eyeing the many badges lining her over coat, and a name tag on her front pocket.

 _Sargeant Dahl_

 _Head of Military Branch_

 _E.N.A._

"Not bad General…. if you wanted to be killed…"


	17. Not an update, but wait

Sorry to fool you if you were excited for another chapter

But don't worry I'm gonna work on it tonight, if not tomorrow. Spam me with comments to make sure I do.

This won't be a permanent chapter but I wanted your guys' help.

My art style has been quickly becoming better, but because of that the cover of this book keeps looking less and less, well, good in my opinion.

I've been unable to use my drawing tablet for quite a long time. I need a new pen.

So I thought, what if I turned it over to you guys.

I've always wanted to receive fanart, and I know this story has gained a growing popularity.

So here's what I want to do.

I want to hold a contest for the making of a new cover for this story.

Now, I don't know if any of you would be interested in that, but if you are leave a comment saying you'd be willing.

If I did do this, I will say this.

I would like it if it's a drawing you do.

But if it's an edit from something from the animations or something along those lines, I would gladly accept those as well.

Before I delve into any rules or anything I want to first see if this is something you guys would actually WANT to do. So please leave your feedback in the description.

Oh and no, this wouldn't stop me from doing updates. It would be a hidden on the side thing. So don't worry about that

Thanks again guys for all your support.

Boi for now


	18. Chapter 14

Long, cold, beads of sweat ran down the back of Tord's neck. Here he was, hair untidy, wrinkled uniform, and unprepared in almost every necessary aspect. With none other than one of the head officials themselves standing before him with nothing but a face of utter disappointment.

The rest of the soldiers postured themselves and moved to have their backs against the wall. Tom scurried to join them, cupping the butt of his gun in his palm. Unfortunately, as he did so, the gun began to slowly fall forwards, and before Tom could stop it, it hit the floor. The clang of the gun echoed loudly a crossed the intensely quiet hallway.

Dahl, who had been walking as slow as molasses down the stretch to meet Tord, stopped to stare at the clumsy fool of a soldier just a few feet ahead of her. Tom's face grew hot with embarrassment as he quickly picked up his gun and resumed his place in line.

Tord massaged the corners of his eyes up to the tip of his nose as he sighed. He too was growing ever more embarrassed over his own men.

Dahl resumed her walk until she stood before Tord, towering a good 6 inches above him. Tord shivered in her shadows wake.

"General Johansen.." She stated, her arms folded behind her back.

"Sergeant Dahl..." Tord replied, staring up at her slightly.

She glanced left and right at the soldiers lining the walls," I understand I have arrived at a quite unexpected and possibly inconvenient time, Johansen, but I must say you haven't made a very good first impression."

Sergeant Dahl was none well for grilling army squadrons for the tiniest of details, and was almost near impossible to impress. That made her presence as the one chosen to evaluate their progression, that much more dampening on the success of the task.

"I see...ma'am, I apologize-" Tord stammered, but was cut off.

"Do not waste your time giving me your petty mumbling and excuses. Focus on making this trip not a waste of my time." Dahl exclaimed, hands placed on her hips.

Tord nodded profusely," yes ma'am, understood. Solute!"

Tord shouted, each soldier somehow gaining an even greater posture and saluting with their right arm. Tom did so as well, eager to restore his impression.

"To the shooting room, now!" Tord ordered

"Sir, yes, sir!" Everyone shouted in unison before turning on their heels and walking in rhythmic lines like a row of toy robots.

Dahl's expression stayed melancholy as Tord began to lead her in the same direction. Paul and Patryk walked a foot or so behind them, giving each other worried glances every now and then.

They reached the room, Tord and Dahl entering first and then the rest of the small army.

"Alright then, show me how you've 'mastered the art of shooting'" Dahl mused sarcastically.

Each soldier gave the person next to them an uncertain glance before retreating to the back of the room to grab one of the nerf guns out of a box.

Dahl sputtered as she watched the full-grown adults grabbed children's toys and began to shoot styrofoam bullets at targets on the wall. Tord was running his hands through his hair, pulling it simultaneously.

"Is this supposed to be some sort of JOKE?!" Dahl spat, each face turning towards her," Or did I just walk into a camp for 5-year-old children?!"

"Well, ma'am, you see... we use these to practice-" one guy tried to speak up, but was sorely interrupted.

"Plastic guns are hardly a substitute for combat! This is combat."

She pulled out a pistol from her belt, holding it upside down as she walks across the room. As she went she began to shoot, startling the nearby soldiers, but each bullet penetrated the inner two circles of each target. The last shot cut through the center of a styrofoam bullet already on the circle. She stepped back, placing the pistol back on her belt.

"War is not a child's game, using plastic toys Johansen. I would've thought that you of all people would know that."

Tom played with the NERF gun in his hands awkwardly. In turn, watching Tord struggle.

Tord simply nodded clenching his right arm. Paul stepped forward, cigar hanging out of his mouth and bouncing as he spoke.

"It was merely a safety probation ma'am. You see, we didn't want to cause any mishaps with guns."

Dahl glared a crossed the room at the man that dared speak up. Paul felt he should back away out of sight again, but he didn't have time to.

"Safety, is not and never will be this organization's first priority. Our priority is to learn to fight and kill, and if that means you get a few boo-boos from training then so be it. Because if you're afraid of that you should just go home before you have to face the real deal because it is NOTHING compared to this."

She was now hovering inches wbove Paul's face, engulfing him in her shadow. He was shaking, not knowing what to say or do. She took a step back, folding her arms behind her back again.

"I'm done here..." she turned, heading towards the door.

Tord walked after her, panicked," Wait no! Give us another chance, we'll show you how-"

"General Johansen! Must I be the one to remind you of the strikes you already have on your record?! You've been given far too many chances lately. And if my word gets through to the Boss about your disappointing performance today you might as well pack your bags now and say goodbye to your status!"

She left, and Tord didn't try to stop her, no one did. The door's slam echoing throughout the room.

Patryk placed a hand on his leader's soldier, "Boss?.." he stared at the pale texture of his face, as he stared onward at the door, unblinking.

Tord's world was crashing around him, and Tom almost pitied him.


End file.
